P&F Industries 1: The Mustang
by EDD17SP
Summary: In 2014, seven years after the rollercoaster, Candace enters her Neblington Nymph in a car show, where Phineas, Ferb and Isabella meet a man who will unknowingly change their lives, eventually leading to a bigger adventure. Doofenshmirtz attracts attention with his flatbed microbus, which has Perry very suspicious. Read if you love classic American cars!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb, any of the songs used, or****_ "My Cousin Vinny". _****Do not attempt any of the driving described here at home. There is no guarantee it will work the way I wrote it and you'll probably get arrested.  
****The Boys Of Summer belongs to Don Henley.  
****The Bandit Express belongs to Lee Greenwood.**

Chapter 1

The bright blue 1954 Neblington Nymph convertible rolled smoothly through the hills on the outskirts of Danville. The sun was about halfway down the clear sky on the first day of summer vacation. The year was 2014.

The car's four occupants were silent. They were a bit tired after a their busy day and they were just calmly listening to the song playing on the radio.

_"Out on the road today, I saw a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said 'Don't look back, you can never look back.' I thought I knew what love waaas, what did I know? Those days are gone forever. I should just let 'em go but…_

_I can seeee you. Your brown skin shinnin' in the sun. You got the top pulled down and your…radio on baby."_

Candace Flynn swung the car to the right at a normally deserted intersection that today was clogged with cars and motorcycles. The traffic on the two-lane country road was moving at snail's pace, but that was to be expected when half the vehicles in the Tri-State Area, Quad-State Area and Kentucky were all trying to get to the same place. That place was the Danville fairgrounds, a one hundred-twenty-three and five sixteenth acre flat grassland nestled between rolling hills on three sides and US Interstate 57 bordering the other.

The fairgrounds were almost completely flat and devoid of tall vegetation, making it a favorite spot for model airplane enthusiasts and perfect for holding large gatherings too big for Danville Park. There was also a huge, paved parking lot in one corner, the construction of which greatly affected the Tri-State watershed. The runoff created by this asphalt surface had eroded a little brook behind it that flowed into Danville Creek and eventually to the Metropolitan Oval Aquatic Trench. This parking lot, however, was the perfect place to hold the fourth-largest annual classic car show in the United States. And it was here that so many motor vehicles were flocking on this warm summer evening.

The occupant of the passenger seat leaned forward slightly to tune the radio station back in, which was becoming laced with static. When he and his brother had restored the car, they had included a myriad of hi-tech attachments, but all the gadgets could retract to make the car appear exactly as it had in 1954. Therefore, in an effort to keep the classic feel of the car, the radio was analog and not digital, which meant that the radio had to be manually tuned and was difficult to keep free of static.

Having restored the end of the Don Henley song to clarity, Ferb Fletcher, Candace's step brother, leaned back into the comfortable leather seat. He was very proud of the hand he had played in restoring the English Neblington, and he enjoyed seeing how his sister glowed when she was complemented on her car.

Now that the car had become stuck in the slow moving traffic, which occasionally stopped completely for brief moments, the cool breeze that had taken the hot edge off the sun was gone, and the ultra-violet rays began to pound on the car's passengers. Ferb began to sweat and he ran a hand through his messy green hair. He glanced in the rearview mirror on the windshield and examined the interactions between the two people in the back seat.

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro was resting one arm on the fin that extended from the body of the pristine car. Ferb had often thought that this car's design was a bit strange. The front end, which included everything from the front bumper, the firewall, and the engine compartment in-between was about half the length of the car, making room for the V-12 engine. (Ferb also thought 12 cylinders in this car was rather pointless, too, since the huge, heavy engine only would have made about 130 horsepower when it rolled off the assembly line, which was just poor engineering. It also got terrible fuel mileage before he had modified it, making him question the need for such a huge engine in a production car.) The front seat was actually behind the center of the body, meaning that there were only two doors and if someone wanted to sit in the back, they had to step on the back bumper and climb over the back of the rear seat, and no one could sit there when the convertible top was up. This had eliminated all cargo space. (_Gee, _thought Ferb, _If we hadn't supped this car up, it would be really stupid._)

Isabella had her head turned to the right to have the best view of the backseat's other occupant, Phineas Flynn, her best friend who she secretly had a huge crush on. From this angle, the sun was behind Phineas's triangular head, and rays of light danced around his cranium, making it look like he was literally glowing in the soft gold light of the late summer afternoon.

Ferb could see the loving look in Isabella's eyes even in the reflection of the rearview mirror. He smirked slightly. He watched with interest as Phineas, who had been staring out off the passenger side of the car, watching the scenery, turned slowly to face Isabella. Isabella's expression did not change. It was almost as if she hadn't seen Phineas turn.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" Phineas asked.

Isabella jumped and sat up, the love struck expression vanishing from her face.

"Huh? What? I wasn't staring at you," she lied.

"Oh, okay." He turned back.

Isabella sighed dejectedly. She was embarrassed that Phineas had caught her staring at him, but she sort of wished that Phineas would just realize she was lying, that she was staring at him, and that there was a reason for it.

Ferb sighed too. These sort of encounters had been going on between the two for years. He tapped Candace on the shoulder. The car was currently stopped again, so she looked at him. Ferb stuck his left thumb over his shoulder, indicating that her focus should be on Phineas and Isabella, not him.

Candace turned her head further around. Isabella was staring at Phineas again, but this time with a sort of sorrowful look plastered on her pretty face. Phineas had wet his index finger and was rubbing at a spot on the fin that he hoped was a streak and not a scratch, completely unaware of the loving eyes fixed on him.

"After all these years…" Candace whispered to Ferb, turning back around. "He's still completely clueless."

They were finally approaching the car show entrance. The two distinct areas of the fairgrounds, the fields and the parking lot, were both being used for parking, but the parking lot was reserved for the classic cars being entered in the competition. All other cars had to park on the short wild grass of the field.

Several men and women in fluorescent green vests were directing the traffic, trying to park the spectators' cars as quickly and efficiently as possible and directing the contestants' cars further down the road to the paved parking lot. One such vested volunteer waved Candace on as she approached and the Nymph actually gained some speed as Candace followed a 1973 Dodge Charger down the now thinned out road to another left turn a quarter mile further down.

Candace was forced to stop in a line once again, but this one was slightly more orderly. A man sporting a white cowboy hat at the parking lot entrance stopped each car, briefly spoke to each driver, wrote something on a clip board, and handed them something before they were granted entry. Finally, after 10 more agonizing minutes in the heat, it was Candace's turn.

"How you doin'?" asked the middle aged man, who had a slight southern drawl.

"Fine, thanks," Candace responded with a smile.

"Good," he said. "Contestant's name?"

"Candace Flynn."

"Phone number?"

She told him. He wrote these things on the clip board as she said them.

"Okay, now I need the year, make, and model of the vehicle you're enterin'."

"It's a 1954 Neblington Nymph convertible," Candace said proudly.

It took the man a moment to write that down. When he was done, he said, "Okay, now I just need the license plate number…" he stepped forward so he could see the car's front bumper, copied down the jumble of letters and numbers on the license plate, and then stepped back up next to Candace's door.

"Okay," he said with a smile. "You are officially registered as a contestant. Here's your tag." He handed her a bright yellow piece of paper with a perfect hole cut out of the top. There was a slit on one side of the hole so it could be slipped over the rearview mirror bracket. It bore the number 437. "Hang it from the rearview so it can be seen by voters and follow the signs to the correct section to park. Good luck!"

"Thanks!" called Candace, as she lifted her foot off the brake pedal and let the transmission, which was in drive, carry her slowly into the parking lot without having to touch the gas.

Two signs pointed to the left and right. The sign on the left read "**1900-1959" **and the one on the right "**1960-1980**." Candace turned left.

More signs labeled each row of parking spaces, dividing the cars up by decade. Candace turned right at the first row they passed, which was "**1950-1959**". As soon as she did, she was met with another sign, which read "Domestic." A bit further than halfway down the row was the sign that distinguished "Foreign" cars. Each car was given an allotted spot larger than an individual parking space so that spectators could easily walk around each car to view them completely. Thus, another volunteer directed Candace to back into her space, which was on the white line painted between two parking spaces.

Candace turned the key to the off position and removed it. "All right, we're here!" Candace and Ferb opened their doors and stepped out while Phineas and Isabella climbed carefully over the backs of their seats.

"Yipe-!" Isabella yelped as her foot missed the back bumper and she fell backwards onto the ground.

Phineas hopped down next to her. "Are you okay, Isabella?"

"Yeah…"

He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Thanks, Phineas."

"No problem." Phineas took a step to walk away and stopped. "Can I please have my hand back?" Isabella looked at her hand. She still had a hold of Phineas's. She blushed and let go. "Sorry…"

Phineas didn't hear her. He was reaching back into the car, under the back seat.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Just getting out the super cool sign we made for Candace," Phineas replied, pulling something long and metal out from under the seat, the car's only storage area.

The sign was about four feet long, sixteen inches tall and four inches thick. One side was black instead of metal grey. Otherwise it was blank.

"That's a sign?" Isabella asked with a tone of disbelief.

"Yeah, watch." Phineas flicked a micro toggle switch on the side of the sign.

Bright, multicolor letters suddenly appeared on the black side, which Isabella deduced was a screen. The sign read:

**1954**

**Neblington Nymph Convertible**

**471 hp 5 liter V-12 (gasoline, diesel, electric, solar)**

**Auto color changing solar panel skin, Aux. Rocket Boosters, Passenger Make-up vanity, Trophy Shelf, Escape Pod w/ parachute (rear seat), Can Opener, Self-steering Mechanism, Power Convertible Top.**

"Oh, I see. That's cool!" commented Isabella.

"That's not all," Phineas said, raising a finger. He held the sign at arms length and then slowly let go. The sign simply floated right where Phineas had held it.

"Ooh, even cooler! Anti-gravity device?"

"Yup." And that was were Phineas ended the conversation. "Hey sis, where do you want this?" he called to Candace, who was in the process of wiping dead bugs and flecks of dirt off the front of the car with a rag.

"You told me this morning it could be suspended anywhere, right?" she responded.

"Verbatim."

"Float it over the hood, just higher than the windshield," Candace said, rubbing the left headlight.

Phineas did just that, climbing into the front seat and pushing the bottom of the sign higher with his finger tips.

"Want the hood up?" he asked before climbing out.

"Sure," was his sister's only response.

He reached under the dash and pulled the lever that released the hood latch. When Candace was satisfied that the nose of the car was spotless, she reached under the slightly open hood, pushed back the latch with two fingers and lifted the huge hood, revealing the massive engine beneath. There was a modern air pressure cylinder that held the hood in place once it was fully raised.

The three siblings and their friend took a step backward to admire the immaculate automobile before them. The late afternoon sun glistened on the spotless blue paint that wasn't really paint.

"Well, we're gonna go look around at the other cars," said Phineas said, speaking for himself and Ferb.

"Okay. I'll be here with my baby," Candace said affectionately of her car, grinning as she did so.

"We'll be back. Wanna come with us, Isabella?"

_Well, duh_, Isabella thought. _I don't care about cars, I just came to spend time with you!…Hmm, I should actually say that. See what kind of reaction it gets. I think I will. Yeah, I'm gonna say "Duh, I'm coming, I'm only here because you are!" Yeah, I'm gonna say that. Loudly, too. Really loud, and clear, so he can't misunderstand. Here I go! I'm gonna say it! I'm actually gonna do this! Here we go! No holding back! I'm just gonna say it. Right now! Right N-_

"Isabella?"

"Huh?" The brothers were in the process of walking away and Phineas had turned when he realized Isabella wasn't following.

Isabella panicked. "What? I didn't say anything!"

Phineas looked confused. "I asked if you were coming to look at the cars with me and Ferb. You didn't respond."

_Here I go! I'm gonna say it!_

"Yeah, sure, why not? I'll come."

_RRRRGH! Why did I say that? _Isabella hung her head, disgusted with herself, as she followed her two best friends down the isle, which was crowded with people and was nearing its car holding capacity.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The deep gold-colored sunlight streaming through the large back window in the living room of 2308 Maple Drive warmed the small sleeping figure on the couch. The figure was a teal platypus named Perry, Phineas and Ferb's beloved pet.

Perry was getting on in his years. The expected life span of a platypus is only about 10-15 years. Perry was 12. However, he showed no signs of aging. Physically, he looked exactly as he did seven years ago and his muscle and bone remained quite strong. He did however, appreciate a good nap in the sun more than he used to.

At the moment, Perry was dreaming of cheese, the most delicious cheese he had ever tasted, Limburger, to be exact. It had been years since Perry tasted it last and he often thought about it, and how unlikely it was that he would ever taste it again. He was dreaming that he was in the mountains somewhere, and all the stray rocks were made of the delicious cheese.

A quiet beeping sound interrupted Perry's dream. He reluctantly opened his eyes and wondered why the arm he had been resting his head on was wet. Embarrassed, Perry realized he had been drooling in his sleep at the thought of the cheese he so craved.

He wiped his wet arm on the back of the couch cushion, and hopped to the floor. He glanced around and, seeing no one, stood up on his hind legs. He strolled casually around the back of the couch and inspected the floor molding. A button was disguised as a knot in the wood grain and he pressed it. A nearby heat register swung open and he jumped through it, the grate closing behind him.

* * *

"Where is he, Carl?" Major Monogram asked in a loud whisper, distress in his voice.

"I don't know sir."

"You sent the beacon to his watch, right?"  
"I did, sir."

"That was almost four minutes ago. It never takes Agent P this long to respond."

"Maybe he couldn't find his lair entrance, sir."

"Why wouldn't he be able to find the entrance? There's only been one almost everywhere in his house!"

"Well, I kinda got a little overly creative with disguising this one."

"Carl…what did you do?"

"I made the button look like a knot on the baseboard behind the living room couch. The actual entrance is in a heat register."

"Carl, what did I tell you about lair entrances?"  
Carl sighed. "Make them simple and obvious, but not too obvious and put them in plain sight, where no one would think to look."

"And now you're using air vents, the most cliché way to move about inconspicuously. You're getting both too creative and too lazy."

"Sorry, sir."

Monogram looked at his watch again.

"Where is Agent P?"

There was a clanging sound, projected by the speakers on the small tablet Carl held in his hands. The screen showed the usual view into Perry's lair that Monogram would see when talking to Perry.

"What was that?" Carl asked.

Monogram looked at the screen. The clang repeated. It sounded like someone banging on metal. Then he heard Perry's unmistakable "Ngrgrgrgrgr," but it was muffled, and the platypus still did not appear on the screen.

"Agent P, are you there?"

The clang returned. Carl suddenly flinched and looked nervous.

"I know what happened, sir," he said disdainfully. "The heating vent lair entrance was supposed to end at the heating vent in Agent P's lair. Which it does. Except, I forgot to unscrew the vent from the wall."

Monogram lowered his head and cupped a hand around his face.

"One of these days, Carl…Can you hear me Agent P?" He was still talking in a loud whisper. There were two clangs in response.

"Okay, I'm going to have to give you your mission from there, then."

Perry, looking through the grate in the heat register, could just see the screen where his boss's face appeared. Even from the strange angle and restricted view, Perry could tell something was different. The background behind Major Monogram did not appear as it usually did. It sort of looked like carpet. Monogram was definitely not in the agency A/V room. It was also very dark, Monogram's face illuminated only by the light of the screen on Carl's tablet.

"Dr. Doofenshmirtz has been spotted at the Danville Car Show, and when I say 'spotted' I mean I nearly walked into him! Carl and I are at the show, showing off my 1977 Cadillac de Ville, and when I spotted him, right in front of me, Carl and I dove into my car and now I'm laying on the floor in the back and Carl is _on _the back seat."

"I still don't understand what the problem is if he sees you, sir," Carl interrupted.

"If he sees me," Monogram said angrily, "he'll want to come over and say hi. And you know how everything he touches explodes!"

"Sir, I don't think shaking Doofenshmirtz's hand will cause you to spontaneously combust."

"Not me, my car! If he sees me, he'll want to know why I'm here, and I can't lie to him because that goes against my code of being a Major!"

Perry, who was on all fours again because of the narrowness of the vent, leaned his elbow on the bottom of the air duct and rested his chin in his hand. He rolled his eyes.

"So I'll tell him I'm here with my Cadillac, and he'll want to see it, and he'll rub his hand on the fender like all car guys do when they admire a good paint job, and my car will explode! Or disintegrate."

It was Carl's turn to roll his eyes.

"Anyway, Agent P," Monogram spoke slowly. Perry sat up. He had been drifting back to sleep. "Get over here to the car show and find out what Doofenshmirtz is doing!"

"How is he going to do that, sir?" Carl spoke up again. "His hat and all of his various modes of short and long range transportation are in his lair, which he is currently locked out of."

Monogram face palmed again.

"Alright, Agent P. You're going to have to walk to the O.W.C.A. headquarters and enter your lair from there. _Then_ come find out what Doof is up to."

Perry half saluted in the cramped air vent and started walking backwards down the duct.

"And hurry!" Monogram whispered/called. "My back is killing me!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When Phineas, Ferb and Isabella reached the end of the 1950's row, they spotted another man in a fluorescent yellow vest who was handing out small cards, like you might use to keep score on while playing golf.

"Here you go," he said cheerfully, handing each of the seventeen year-olds a card. "When you're done, take the cards up to the stage and drop them in the box."

They examined the printing on the cards. They were for voting the winners of the car show. There were eleven different categories in which to vote, each with a blank next to it in which to write the car's identification number.

"What was Candace's number?" asked Isabella. "I'm gonna vote for her for every category!"

"Well, looking at different categories, I think there are only three the Nymph applies to," said Phineas. "Best Car: 50's and 60's (Foreign), Best Overall Restoration, and…" he scanned the list. "…Best non-traditional modification."  
"Well, she'll definitely win that last one. What was her number?"

"Four hundred thirty seven," said Ferb.

Isabella looked at her card, a confused look on her face. "Oh!" She said, realizing what was missing. "Anybody got a pen?"

Ferb produced one and Isabella wrote "437" next to the three categories Phineas had mentioned, then handed the pen to Phineas so he could do the same. Finally, the pen returned to Ferb, who returned the pen to his pocket after marking his sister's car next to the appropriate categories.

"So where should we go first?" Phineas asked.

_Anywhere, so long as we're together, _Isabella thought.

Ferb pointed toward the older cars further down.

"Good idea, bro. We'll see the older cars and then double back to the…_newer_ old cars on our way up to the stage to cast our votes!"

So, with Ferb in the lead, Isabella mentally cursing herself again, and Phineas completely oblivious to everything but the mechanical automotive wonder around him, they headed for the row marked "1900-1949."

* * *

Perry borrowed Candace's bicycle from the Flynn-Fletcher's garage, put the seat down as far as it would go, and tried to ride as if a platypus on a bike was an everyday occurrence. When he reached the O.W.C.A. headquarters building, he ignored the front door and dove through the mail slot, which was a tube leading down under the building. An electronic sensor detected that he was not mail and a trapdoor that would have directed the mail to the basement mail room closed and Perry continued sliding. Eventually, the tube ended and he found himself in a small room with more tube openings covering all four walls, all blocked off by sliding doors, branching off in all directions. He approached one with the letter "P" above it, placed his paw on a scanner next to it, and when the computer determined it was indeed him and opened the door, Perry dove in and slid down. The tube transported him all the way back to his lair under the Flynn-Fletcher house.

He landed on his red chair, but immediately jumped off and grabbed his fedora from the hat rack in the corner. Without missing a beat, Perry jumped into his hovercraft and took off through the hole that opened in the ceiling, which quite improbably opened into a kiddie pool in the neighbor's yard without spilling any water into Perry's lair. It did, however manage to get Perry and his hovercraft completely drenched. He wrung his hat out and shook his fur as best he could, sighing and reminding himself to smack Carl the next time they met in person.

Then he adjusted his course and headed for the Danville Fairgrounds.

* * *

Phineas and Ferb were experts on many things. Classic cars was not one of those things. However, they did know quality craftsmanship when they saw it. Isabella did too, but she wasn't really focused on the cars. So, as Phineas and Ferb began voting for the winners, Isabella just copied Phineas's choices. The one exception was her choice for Best Car: 50's and 60's (Domestic), where she voted for a 1962 Dodge Dart that had been painted a two-tone purple-and-silver. Her reason for choosing that car was simply that she liked the color scheme.

The three teens turned away from admiring a 1967 Ford Thunderbird and turned down the row containing cars from the 1970's. There were so many cars in this row that a few had overflowed into the adjacent dirt field at the far end of the parking lot.

"Huh," murmured Phineas. "A Plymouth Duster. That's not something you see or hear about much. It's kinda cool."

"Well, the Duster was only manufactured from 1970 to 1976," spoke Ferb.

Phineas looked at him questioningly. "How do you know?"

Ferb held up his phone. Phineas looked at the screen, which displayed an app for identifying automobiles.

"Huh. Well, what do you know?"

When they had almost reached the dirt overflow of the 1970's cars, one car in particular drew their attention. It stood out among the others for two reasons.

First, the owner of the car had rolled the windows down and the radio speakers cranked up so the music escaped the interior of the car, which none of the other entries seemed to have done. At the moment, "Take it Easy" by The Eagles drifted around a fifteen foot radius from the car's designated parking spot.

The other thing that caught their attention was the car's paint scheme. It was black with dark yellow racing stripes and trim. But what made it unusual was the large yellow number 17 painted on the doors and on the roof, NASCAR style. There was also a NASCAR style spoiler on the deck lid.

"That's really cool!" said Phineas. "Let's go take a closer look."

As they walked closer, Phineas identified it as a Ford Mustang, which he only knew because the Mustang is still a current model and the car had a large Ford emblem painted at the base of the hood just above the chrome Mustang logo.

Phineas, Ferb and Isabella walked around the car, admiring the craftsmanship. Isabella crouched next to the passenger door and sighted the lines. The paint had been clear coated several times for protection and was so smooth and professionally perfect that, seen this close up, it was reflective like a mirror.

_Wow,_ she thought, _whoever did this knows his technique._

Ferb got on his hands and knees and looked under the front bumper, trying to see the engine since the hood was closed. The car was only about six inches off the ground, though, and he could not get low enough to see the mechanical parts. He could however see the wheels. The rims were just a simple five-point spoke pattern and they weren't chrome, just brushed metal. The tires had a thicker composition than street tires, but weren't quite fat. Ferb assumed they were racing tires.

When he stood up, Ferb noticed that the hood was secured by four hood pins instead of a traditional latch, something also reminiscent of a race car.

Phineas peered in through the open driver's window. The interior was quite unremarkable for such an obviously well built car. The seats were cloth, not leather, and there was no real detail or decoration anywhere. The only interesting thing inside the car was the sound system, which was modern and had a sixteen preset radio, CD player and connection for mp3, but also had a cassette deck and an 8-track player. That, and the steering wheel, which was not factory original. It was the same size as the original, but it was very boring and non-descript, and the smooth non-rigid grip suggested it was from a race car, as well.

As the three congregated back at the front of the car, Phineas noticed the man who must have been the owner.

"I'd to talk to the owner," Phineas told his brother and Isabella. "I'll bet this car has an interesting story behind it."

And so, as the apparent owner of the car laughed and waved goodbye to the two car enthusiasts he was speaking with, Phineas, Ferb and Isabella approached him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Since going away to collage, Candace's personally had mellowed out. She couldn't bust her brothers when she couldn't see what they were doing, after all. Besides, she had embraced her brothers' unrealistic ability to build anything after a serious conversation with them one day.

She had always felt that it was her duty to bust Phineas and Ferb because the things that they do or build could potentially be a danger to themselves and to others. So, before going away to collage, she had asked her brothers not to build anything too dangerous while she was gone.

"Candace," Phineas had said, "The stuff we build is never dangerous. We always make sure the town is okay with us building stuff by acquiring the proper permits, take all the necessary safety precautions, and even build everything to be environmentally friendly. Don't worry about us. You just take care of you. Everything we will build and everything we ever have built is perfectly safe."

Somehow, that simple explanation was all it took for Candace to realize that there was no reason to worry about her brother's crazy contraptions. She had felt quite relieved.

That relief was almost ruined when Ferb had said "However, that rollercoaster we built when we were ten was a bit rickety, by our standards."

But, while Candace had traded in her energetic, crazy personally for a calm, personable demeanor, she still craved attention and recognition and retained an air of paranoia. And it was at this particular moment, she decided she simply had to know if people were voting for her.

As a man with a union jack t-shirt finished looking over her car and started to walk away, Candace quietly snuck up behind him and looked over his shoulder at his card. It was blank.

_Well that was no help_, she thought.

She walked over to a group of people who were standing in a semi-circle, talking, and as discreetly as she could, examined their cards.

None had voted for her.

She repeated this several more times, and could not find her number "437" on a single score card. However, she often found that the cards were blank or contained very few entries.

Confused and disappointed, she returned to her Nymph.

"Come on," she said out loud, talking to no one. "This car can't be boring. Why aren't people voting for me?"

She looked the car up and down. Maybe it was dirty. No, it wasn't. But she did notice something else. The tag with her car's identification number was backwards, blown by the wind. Which was strange, because there was no wind.

She reached into the car and turned the tag around. Immediately, it flipped back. Candace turned it forward again with the same results. She tried to wedge it behind the mirror, and when that didn't work, she searched the glove box for tape to stick it directly to the windshield, but found none.

She tried a few more times to turn to flip the tag around to no avail.

"Why won't this thing stay? There isn't even any wind!"

* * *

_Doofenshmirtz's Flatbed Microbus!_

Perry landed his hovercraft on the bed of Heinz Doofenshmirtz's Volkswagen truck…thing, which was parked in the 1960's row of the Classic Car lot. He hopped out onto the truck bed and shook himself again, trying to better dry his fur. He then reached back to grab his fedora, which he had left on the dash under the windshield to dry. He pulled it tightly onto his head as he jumped off the back of the truck and walked over to where Dr. Doofenshmirtz was polishing a headlight with a rag.

Doof jumped in surprise when he saw Perry and knocked over a bottle of wax.

"Perry the Platypus! What are you doing here?"

Perry shrugged.

"Well I don't have an evil scheme, if that's what you're thinking. I'm just here showing off my 1961 VW Type II Flatbed Truck. You're welcome to hang out with me, though."

Perry was going to decline and tell Major Monogram and Carl that Doofenshmirtz wasn't up to anything, but, remembering how Carl had royally screwed up his lair entrance and how Major Monogram had stolen his lunch from the break room fridge last week, he decided he wasn't going to tell them anything, and let them sweat it out in the back of Monogram's Cadillac.

Perry gave a small smile and nodded that he would stay.

"Great!" Doof said enthusiastically. "You can help me clean it up a little. I didn't really have time to prepare it after our encounter earlier today. It takes a long time to dislodge a ceiling fan blade from the inside of your nose. And I'm so glad you chose to park your hovercraft on the bed of the truck. It sort of adds something to the whole display."

* * *

"Hi, there!" said Phineas cheerfully. "Is this your car?"

"It is. Nice, huh?"

"Its beautiful! My name is Phineas and this my brother, Ferb," Phineas said as he extended his hand. The young man shook with Phineas and then with Ferb. "And this is our friend Isabella."

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking Isabella's hand as well.

The man was young, about 22 years old. His eyes were covered by dark, half-frame wrap-around sunglasses and a he wore a white baseball cap, plain aside from the blue Ford emblem and the word "RACING" directly under it in red stitching. He wore tan shorts and a white t-shirt with a colorful design depicting a NASCAR stock car that was yellow and black with DEWALT sponsor logos on the hood and rear fenders and the number 17 in the same style as on the Mustang the man owned. The name "MATT KENSETH" was printed in all capital letters above the picture of the car.

"Are you Matt Kenseth?" asked Phineas, reading the name on the shirt. He had no idea who that was, so it was a logical guess.

"No, I wish," the man replied with a smile. "My name is Steve."  
"Martin?" asked Isabella.

"No, and not Park, either, not that I expect you to know who Steve Park is," he joked with a smile. "I'm Steve Marcis, with an 'I' not a 'U.'"

"Pleased to meet you," Phineas said. "Can you tell us about your car? It's really cool. Looks like a race car."

"I'm glad you think it does, 'cause that's sort of what I was going for."

"Did you paint it yourself?" Isabella asked.

"Yes. Actually, I restored it. It saved my life, as a matter of fact," he said, looking rather wistful as he said it.

"Really?" Phineas said, intrigued.

"Yup. It's a long, rather sad story, I'm sure you don't care enough to hear the whole thing."

"Are you kidding?" Phineas said, still perpetually cheerful. "We'd love to hear it, right guys?"

Ferb nodded. "Sure!" said Isabella. _And if it is really sad, I'll have an excuse to hold on to Phineas_, she thought.

"Well, okay," Steve said, and took a few steps toward the car, turned and leaned back against the front bumper. Then he began to tell his tale.

"I suppose it started four years ago, in the little railroading town of Clayton, Delaware."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Doofenshmirtz had said he didn't have a plan, but Perry was ever vigilant, on the look out for the inevitable inator that was always around. He had already destroyed one earlier that day, the "Typical-Evil-Ray-Guninator," as Doof had called it, which was basically just that: your standard evil ray gun that every evil scientist since lasers were invented in the 1960's built at some point in his or her career.

At the moment, Perry was wiping off the inside of windshield with a paper towel and a spray bottle of cleaner whose label had been ripped off. The curved glass panel clean, Perry sat back in the seat. It was really uncomfortable.

And then he saw it. Where the radio should have been was a similar box that read "TAG-FLIPPERINATOR."

Perry rolled his eyes. The device only had three features: An on/off knob, turned to "ON," an indicator light that was lit to show that the device was functioning, and, of course, the self destruct button.

The inator was not secured to anything and it slid out of the hole in the dashboard when Perry pulled on it. Glancing into the gap where the radio should have been, Perry could see two wires leading out of the back of the inator. One lead in the direction of the radio antenna, suggesting that this inator was not a ray, but a frequency emitter. The other was strung through a hole drilled in the firewall.

Perry had a thought. He noticed that the key was in the ignition and turned to A/C. He grabbed the key and twisted it off. The indicator light blinked out, though the device was still turned "ON." Perry turned the key back on. The light returned. Perry deduced that the wire through the firewall led to the truck's battery. Perry could easily thwart Doof and the Doc wouldn't even know it.

Perry took off his hat and pulled out a Swiss Army knife secured under the sweat band. He cut the wire that led to the antenna and slid the TAG-FLIPPERINATOR back into the slot. Now if Doofenshmirtz happened to look at his inator, it would appear to be functioning, when in reality, it had been cleverly disabled.

Perry picked up the spray bottle and paper towel and jumped out of the cab.

* * *

"I had a nice life, I guess," Steve spoke with a sort of upset tone. "I had friends, but not many I considered good friends and even fewer I considered best friends. Of course, Clayton only has a population of twelve hundred people or so, and not many of them are my age. I was very close with my parents and with my uncle, my dad's brother. "My uncle actually used to live here, in Danville. He was a mechanic, had his own garage. It closed years ago and he moved back to Delaware, before I was born. I spent a lot of time with him in his new garage in Clayton. I learned all the ins and outs of working on cars there. He taught me everything he knew." Steve had a small smile on his face now, enjoying the reminiscing that was going on his mind. Phineas, Ferb and Isabella listened with interest.

"When I was sixteen, my uncle died. He was actually working on a truck in his garage that was a bit too heavy for his lift. The hydraulics failed and the truck crushed him."

Isabella let out a small gasp and Phineas's eyes widened with pity. Ferb remained stoic as always.

"That's so sad," Isabella said.

"Yeah, it gets better," Steve said sarcastically. "That was in January of my senior year of high school. On Valentine's Day, my parents went out to dinner. On their way home, my dad had the green arrow to make a left hand turn while straight had the red. Some guy in a Mercedes-Benz ran the light and hit my parents' car almost head on." he lowered his eyes behind his sunglasses. "There were no survivors in either car."

There was silence. No one spoke. Finally, when Phineas became unsure whether or not Steve was going to continue, the teen asked, "So…what happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened," Steve said, a previously unheard tone of anger, heroism and confidence, all together, in his voice. "I finished my senior year of high school! I sucked it up and I graduated! I was seventeenth in my class of three hundred and twenty-two."

Steve paused, and then his tone sinking again, continued. "None of my friends supported me or offered to help. When I became depressed, no one tried to comfort me. My parents and uncle were about the only family I had. Three of my grandparents died before I was born and the third died when I was a baby. My uncle, my only uncle, never married. Therefore, no cousins. So, pretty much, my friends didn't want to be around me when I was depressed, so they abandoned me."

The looks Steve received were wide-eyed and sullen.

"Still want me to continue?" he asked.

The three nodded. "We haven't even made it to the Mustang," Isabella said weakly. "I kinda want to know how we're gonna wind up here," she gestured to the car Steve was leaning on, "from…all of that." _That sentence sounded so much better in my head, _she thought.

Steve apparently didn't notice. "My parents left everything to me, but the money they left wasn't going to pay the bills forever. So, when school ended, and with no reason to stay in Clayton, I sold the house, my car and everything that wasn't really mine, packed my clothes and all of my NASCAR memorabilia, loaded it into the back of my dad's 1996 Ford F-150 and started driving."

There was another pause and Steve exhaled deeply.

"I didn't know where to go. I considered North Carolina because that's where most NASCAR teams are located, and the NASCAR Hall of Fame, but I had no where to go when I got there. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, I'm a huge NASCAR fan. It's sort of an unhealthy obsession."

"We have a friend with an obsession like that," Phineas said. "His name is Irving. He's the friendliest stalker you'll ever meet." He thought about what he had just said for a moment. "Okay, maybe its not quite the same."

"Okay…" Steve said slowly, unsure how to respond to that. "So anyway, then I remembered: My uncle had a garage in Danville! It closed years ago, but the building was never sold! He still owned it until he died! When he died, it went to my dad! My dad was going to sell it, but he never got the chance. And since I got everything that was my parents', that meant the garage was mine!

"And so, that brings the story to Danville."

If Phineas, Ferb and Isabella had been sitting down, they would have been on the edge of their seats. This was getting interesting.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"When I finally got here, to Danville, the truck was running on fumes. So I pulled into the first gas station I found off the interstate. As I was filling my tank, I noticed what appeared to be the rusted out hull of a 1970 Ford Mustang, which just so happened to be my dream car." Steve lightly tapped the knuckle of his middle finger on the front bumper of the car he was leaning against.

"But that is not where the story of the Mustang starts."

Phineas, Ferb and Isabella were still listening intently, and Isabella, surprisingly, looked a bit disappointed that that was not where the Mustang entered Steve's story.

"I found the garage. Everything was covered with dust, but my uncle had left everything very neat. See, he had always wanted to return to Danville, reopen this garage as a 'second location,'" Steve made the air quotes, "so all his tools and machines were still there, covered with sheets. And fortunately for me, the back room was more like an office. Carpeted floors, well lit, and well, it _had_ been an office, so…you know…there was office furniture. I put a couch and a refrigerator in there and it became my little one room apartment."

"Where did you go to the bathroom?" Isabella asked.

"Oh, there was a bathroom in there. Don't worry," Steve answered, finding the question rather funny. "It was the next room over. I got a contractor to make it a little bigger and add a shower."

Steve lowered his voice again. "But I was still depressed. Sometimes I would lie on that couch for days, in the dark, only getting up to go to the bathroom.

"Then, one day I went out for groceries and stopped for gas at that same gas station. The Mustang was still there. So, almost without realizing what I was doing, I asked the gas station manager who it belonged to. Next thing I knew I had paid three hundred dollars for it and it was sitting in the empty garage."

He paused again, this time more for dramatic effect that anything.

"And I started working on it." Another short pause. "I stripped it down, disassembled anything that wasn't welded together. Sanded down the rust, painted the frame and started putting it back together again. I repaired what I could, but a lot of stuff had to be replaced."

At this point, Steve was grinning broadly, excited to talk about his car. "I bought only the best quality parts. I beefed up the suspension with stuff from Ford Racing, of course. This car can handle anything you can throw at it: Road, racetrack, dirt…actually, it can't do snow. The tires aren't tall enough and its too close to the ground. Icy, snow covered roads, yes, but not a snowy field.

"Here's the best part," Steve said, straightening up and turning to pull out the hood pins. "My uncle was buddies with a guy who worked at Roush/Yates Engines. They build the engines for every Ford in NASCAR's top divisions. He hooked me up."

He lifted the Mustang's hood. Phineas, Ferb and Isabella leaned in for a closer look. A spotlessly clean, 358 cubic inch push-rod V-8 stared back at them.

"Behold," Steve spoke slowly, "The FR9 Engine."

"I don't know anything about cars, Steve," Isabella said to him. "What does 'FR9' mean?"

"Ford Racing…9th generation, I guess. I'm not really sure what the '9' is."

Phineas and Ferb admired the engine from every angle, reveling in the craftsmanship of Doug Yates's crew.

"You put a super-charger on this, too?" Phineas asked, spying the parts secured to the engine.

"Yup, NASCAR doesn't allow them, but this whole car would never be allowed in NASCAR, anyway. Its not like I'm trying to race it in NASCAR, though. I had to jury-rig the supercharger parts to attach them to the engine, since superchargers are manufactured to fit specific engines and no one has ever put one on a stock car engine."

"How much power do you get out of it?"

"Well, it was 850 horsepower originally, so with the supercharger…970 or so," Steve said.

Ferb whistled appreciatively.

"But it got terrible fuel mileage, which is why I spent two months reworking the entire engine to get better economy. I did I a pretty good job, if I do say so myself. I only got about four miles to the gallon when I put the supercharger on. Now, I get fourteen. Its got a NASCAR road coarse transmission in it, too, which is why its only a four-speed. It's rather challenging to drive _not _on a racetrack, but its really fun."

Steve leaned against the front bumper again.

"When I was done rebuilding, I painted it myself, too. The color scheme and the 17's are a memorial to Matt Kenseth's former ride in NASCAR. You guys aren't NACAR fans, are you?"

They shook their heads no. "But we did race in the Swamp Oil 500 seven years ago," Phineas said.

Steve's eyes widened. "Hey, I knew you guys looked familiar! I remember watching that race on T.V.!" He suddenly narrowed his eyes. "You guys broke about every rule in the book! Your engine was _way _bigger than 358 cubic inches and your car was so far off the areo templates you could tell just by looking at it! How the heck did you guys get that car through tech inspection?"

Phineas looked at Ferb, then at Isabella, a confused look on his face. Then he turned back to Steve. "Through _what_?"

"Technical inspection! How did you guys possibly get clearance to race that thing?"

Phineas was silent for a moment. "Are you saying we cheated?"

"You cheated so much, and got away with it, that you are going to automotive hell!"

Phineas looked at Ferb again. He looked like he was going to throw up. "We _cheated?!"_

Steve interrupted. "Yes, yes you did. Anyway, Matt Kenseth drove the number 17 Ford in the Cup Series for eleven years. And then, out of no where, he just leaves Roush-Fenway Racing, who owns the car, and went to Joe Gibbs Racing, where he now drives the number 20," he paused and shivered before adding, "_Toyota_. So, I painted the car with Matt's old DEWALT colors, with his number 17 on the doors and roof. And, as an added bonus, I found a guy who could do awesome airbrushing and had him add this Ford emblem here," he pointed to the base of the hood, which he had lowered again, "and another on the back bumper."

"Why did you pretend to shiver when you said 'Toyota?'" Isabella asked.

"Because!" Steve exclaimed, "I hate Toyotas! I hate all foreign cars, but especially Toyotas! And now, my favorite driver, who drove awesome American Fords for so many years, has defected to the enemy!" He paused again. "Kenseth will always be my driver, but NASCAR just won't ever be the same for me with him in the 20 car."

Isabella was suddenly indignant. "What's wrong with foreign cars? I drive a '99 Camery and I love it!"

Steve jumped backwards. "I…I…I'm sorry…I could have sworn you just said you _love_ a Toyota Camery."

"I did."

Steve clutched his chest and pretended to stumble backwards. "Oh, my soul! You're killing me!" He pointed at Phineas and Ferb. "What do you guys drive?"

"We share a Dodge Intrepid," Phineas said.

"Okay…okay…" Steve pretended to pant. "You guys are good. But I think she's over on the dark side."

"Hey!"

"Oh, come on, Isabella's cool!" Phineas snapped, defending his friend. "You can't judge someone just by the car they drive!"

Steve laughed. "I know. I'm just messing with ya. You're cool Isabella, and very pretty too, I might add."

Isabella smiled nervously and said "Um, thanks?"

Steve laughed again. "But seriously, foreign cars are junk. You'll see, some day, it'll let you down."

"Mmm, I doubt it."

"Well, would you like to see what good 'ol American engineering can do?"

"Okay, sure."

"You guys too," said Steve, pointing at Phineas and Ferb.

"Sure, lets go!" Phineas said, a smile returning to his face. Steve opened the driver's door and tilted the front seat forward so two of them could climb into the back seat. Phineas and Isabella climbed in, assuming the same spots they had in Candace's car on the ride to the car show.

Steve put the seat back and climbed into the driver's seat as Ferb slid in on the passenger side.

"I'm warning you guys now," Steve said. "I don't just know cars in and out. I am also an incredible driver."

"Being a safe driver is great, especially the way some people drive nowadays," Phineas said as he put on his seat belt.

"Yeah…that's not what I meant."

Phineas looked confused. "What did you mean, then?"

"You'll see."

He turned back around and twisted the key in the ignition. The starter only spun once before the racing engine turned over. It growled at a decibel so loud, the occupants of the car could only hear each other if they shouted.

"WOW!" yelled Isabella, her hands covering her ears protectively. "ITS REALLY LOUD!"

"YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHIN' YET!" Steve replied.

The four speed manual transmission was still in neutral and the parking brake was on, so the car didn't move when Steve stepped on the gas pedal and revved the engine up to 6000 rpm. The engine screamed. People all over the car show covered their ears.

When he finally let off the throttle, he turned to see the reactions of those in the car. Ferb still sat stoic as ever, while Phineas and Isabella looked like they were in pain.

Steve flicked a switch on the dash and the engine suddenly quieted.

"You guys okay?"

They nodded.

"How did you make the engine get so much quieter?" Phineas asked. The engine was still very loud, but it had softened enough to make it quiet by comparison.

"I didn't want to loose the full engine noise, but its kinda hard to drive comfortably with it that loud, so I built a muffler that can be connected or disconnected from the exhaust with just a simple servo motor. Cool, huh?"

"I'll say!"

"Alright, let's have some fun!"

Steve put his left hand on the steering wheel and right on the gear shifter on the center console. He shifted into first and turned left out of his parking space. The Mustang rolled slowly down the crowded isle as Steve waited for spectators to clear the way. As they rode along Phineas asked "Hey, you never told us: how did this car save your life?"

Steve exhaled deeply again and lowered his eyes behind his sunglasses. "If I hadn't had this car to work on and keep me busy…there is no doubt in my mind I would have taken my own life eventually."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Finally, they reached the exit. Steve stopped the car.

"Hmm," Steve pushed some buttons on the sound system, which had been continually blaring music since the gang first met Steve. "What's good background music for driving recklessly down country roads?" Which was not a question aimed at anyone, just talking to himself. Phineas and Isabella gave each other a nervous look.

"Ah, perfect!" Steve said, selecting something to his liking. "Here we go!"

As the music started blasting from the speakers, Steve returned his right hand to the gear shifter and floored it. The back wheels failed to grip and spun wildly, creating a huge cloud of white tire smoke and filling the air with the scent of burning rubber. The car moved forward slowly and Steve turned left, the rear wheels sliding around in a drift as he did so. He turned back to the right to straighten out and lifted off the gas just enough to make the wheels grip. Then he floored it again and started accelerating at an incredible pace as Lee Greenwood's deep, sort of gravelly voice began to flow from the speakers.

_"Hear that roar of thunder…"_

Steve shifted into second gear and then to third. The engine roared despite the muffler.

_"Hear those tires scream…"_

Steve slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel right at an intersection, drifting the tires a bit again and creating an incredible squeal. Isabella was thrown against the side of the seat from the centrifugal force.

_"He's every boy's hero…Every lady's dream."_

The Mustang accelerated out of the turn and down the straight road, approaching 150 miles per hour. The grassy fields on both sides of the two-lane road slowly changed to increasingly thicker woods.

_"Flyin' down the highway headin' west…In a streak of black lightning called the 'Bandit Express.'"_

As the car reached the top of a small hill, the tires briefly left the pavement. The lack of force on the tires caused the engine's revolutions per minute to increase almost instantly, but dropped back to normal when the rear tires landed safely on the ground again.

"YAHHH-oof!" Isabella yelled and then was cut off as the air was knocked out of her from a rather rough landing.

_"Look out the Bandit's comin', tires screamin', engine hummin'… looks like the Bandit's on the move…"_

The road gently curved again 90 degrees and Steve utilized both lanes of the deserted asphalt to drift the car through the turn. He let off the gas, popped the clutch, and dropped the transmission from third to first gear. The rear wheels spun wildly again and the back end jumped out to the left, because Steve turned the steering wheel to the right. He threw it back into third and floored it, holding the wheel all the way to the left as the car slid almost perpendicular to the road surface. Steve wrestled the car out of the drift and the wheels regained grip, continuing down the road without loosing much speed.

_"Look out the Bandit's comin', bet your money and warn the women, tell those Smokeys all to take a rest… 'Cause they'll never get the BANDIT EXPRESS!"_

Greenwood's voice stopped here for a moment and music filled the gap. The Mustang continued haphazardly down the road at breakneck speed while still perfectly under Steve's control. However, to say the car's passengers doubted the driving skills of this man they had just met would have been a gross understatement.

The usually stoic Ferb was gripping the door handle with his right hand and his left calf with the other, both turning white from the pressure. His face however, remained unchanged. Phineas and Isabella didn't really have anything to hold onto in the back seat, so Phineas gripped the back of the passenger seat in front of him and Isabella used her terror as an excuse to hold onto Phineas, latching her fingers around his forearm. What she didn't realize was that she was holding so tightly that her fingernails were digging into Phineas's skin, and every time the car shifted, the nails actually cut a little bit further into his arm.

_"Welllll, he won't take a detour…cause he ain't got the time!…He can turn on a nickel…and give you change for a dime. Always first and never second best! It's that steak of black lightnin' called the 'Bandit Express!'_

As the chorus repeated, they reached road surrounded by open fields again. The two lane blacktop was straight as an arrow. Steve once again lifted his foot off the gas, popped the clutch, and downshifted into first. But this time, after the car started to slide and smoke flew from the tires, he jammed the transmission into reverse and briefly gunned the throttle.

_"Look out the Bandit's commin', tires screamin', engine hummin'"_

The car spun around backwards and momentum carried it around further as Steve shifted back into third gear and floored it again. The car righted almost by itself with just a little steering help and continued down the road without breaking stride.

Isabella screamed and dug her fingernails so hard into Phineas's forearm that she drew blood.

_"looks like the Bandit's on the move…"_

Steve slowed from 120 mph to about 70 and repeated the maneuver, but only halfway, turning the car completely around to head back the way they had come. Another dense cloud of smoke erupted from the rear tires as they first only slowed the car's momentum and then tried to accelerate the car forward again from almost a dead stop.

_"Look out the Bandit's comin', bet your money and warn the women, tell those Smokeys all to take a rest…'Cause they'll never get the BANDIT EXPRESS!"_

The drive back was a bit more tame, Steve deciding to stop showing off his drifting skills and instead see just how high he could get the speedometer to register before he had to slow down. There was a long musical interlude that lasted until they reached the intersection where Steve had turned left on the way out.

Steve slowed to about thirty mph in first gear and slid the Mustang into the middle of the intersection. He floored it again and spun the car in a circle, smoke billowing from the tires as he made a few donuts while the chorus repeated again.

_"Look out the Bandit's comin', tires screamin', engine hummin'… looks like the Bandit's on the move…Look out the Bandit's comin', bet your money and warn the women, tell those Smokeys all to take a rest… 'Cause they'll never get the BANDIT EXPRESS! Oh, they'll never get THE BANDIT EXPRESS!"_

The lyrics ended here, but the music continued as Steve headed out of the intersection, but down a different road, not leading to the car show or back the way they had just come from. A little ways down there was a very long, very wide radius right curve. Steve threw the car into one last drift that he held all the way through the curve, tires shrieking all the way, the rev limiter in the engine keeping the rpms at a level that would not damage the engine, but growling deafeningly none the less.

As he ended the drift on straight road and the theme from _Smokey and the Bandit 3_ began to fade out, Steve repeated his 360 trick twice, first spinning to the left, then to the right, and then did a 180 back to the left again, bringing the car to a stop after the final spin.

"WHOO! That was fun!" Steve yelled excitedly. White tire smoke filled the car's interior, drifting slowly out the open windows and out from under the wheel wells. It was so thick that Steve couldn't see a thing.

He turned to see his passenger's reactions. "Awesome, huh?" As the smoke cleared, Steve began to make out Phineas and Isabella in the back seat.

Isabella was still held in place by her seat belt, but she had somehow flipped completely upside down, her legs bent into the space below the back windshield. Her long black hair entirely hid her face.

Phineas was also still under his seatbelt, but he was lying lengthwise across the seat, his head sandwiched between the seat cushion and Isabella's back.

Ferb was missing.

"Hey, where's Ferb?" Steve asked. An extended arm answered his question. Ferb had slid off the seat and had become wedged between the seat and the passenger door, a quite improbable position.

"Hmm," Steve mused. "Perhaps I should have sprung for the shoulder harness on _all _the seatbelts and not just on the driver's."

"I…can't breath…" Phineas gasped.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Candace's fight with her yellow identification tag had come to a sudden end about half and hour ago. She noticed (or rather concluded from discreet investigation) that quite a few people appeared to be voting for her Neblington Nymph.

The twenty-one (almost twenty-two) year old smiled broadly. Candace enjoyed winning just about as much as she enjoyed attention.

_I got this thing all but wrapped up_, she thought.

* * *

"Carl! Do you see Doofenshmirtz out there?"

Carl climbed into the front seat as stealthily as he could, slipping and hitting his forehead on the dashboard in the process.

"Ouch," he groaned, rubbing his bruise. "I still see him sir. He seems rather distracted by the people walking by his truck."

"Okay, while he's distracted, let's make a run for it," Monogram said, who was still lying on the floor in the backseat. "I can't climb over the seat like you can, so your going to have to drive."

"Me?" Carl said nervousness wavering in his voice. "You want me to drive _your_ car?"

"Sure, why not? I trust you. Your driving record is impeccable."

"Sir, I drive a Smart Car!" Carl lamented. "This is a Cadillac de Ville! The wheel base of this car is almost twice as long! I've never driven anything this big!

"Carl?"

"Yes, Major Monogram?"

"Suck it up," Monogram said as he held up the keys in his hand, "and drive."

Carl took the keys hesitantly. He slid over into the driver's seat and started the car.

* * *

"Hey, which car did you vote for 1970's and 80's Domestic?"

"Do you remember the tag number from that '57 Beamer?"

"That Corvette definitely deserves to win!"

Heinz Doofenshmirtz was confused. "Wait a minute, how can they be voting for anyone but me? I had my Tag-Flipperinator and everyth-"

He spotted Perry climbing down from the truck bed, having just finished cleaning the back window, while a Cadillac in the next row over inched out of its parking space. When Perry reached the ground, he started to walk to the front of the VW, looked up after two steps and stopped, locking eyes with his nemesis. Perry's eyes widened, but otherwise he was expressionless. They stared at each other for nearly half a minute while the Cadillac haltingly worked its way down the isle, almost clipping the Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme next to it as it turned. Finally, Doof opened the cab door.

The scientist saw the green light glowing on the front of the inator. He looked back at Perry, who was still staring at him. He turned back to the inator.

Perry took a few slow steps backwards, his gaze never leaving Doofenshmirtz's figure. He could hear a scraping sound as Doof pulled the inator out of the dashboard.

"Perry the Platypus, how could possibly have thwarted me! I didn't even tell you my evil scheme!"

Perry turned to run, spotting Monograms's Cadillac turning left at the end of the next row over, people sidestepping to avoid it as Carl nervously exited the parking lot.

"Ah-ah-ah, not so fast!" Doof pulled a remote from his lab coat and pressed the lone button just as Perry was even with the back tire of the microbus. The tire shot off the rim and hit the fleeing platypus, knocking him down. The tire ricocheted off and, through a quite outstanding use of physics, bounced off the side of the truck bed and flew through the air, coming down on top of Perry, trapping him in the middle of the tire.

"Ah ha! Now I have you!" Doofenshmirtz gloated. "Now that you already thwarted me, I might as well tel-"

He was interrupted by a creaking sound. The Type II microbus, no longer sitting on four tires, was off balance and the truck slowly tilted until the empty rim touched the ground. The Volkswagen leaned at a dangerous angle, but remained mostly upright. Perry's hovercraft, however, started to slide across the steeply angled bed until it fell off and crashed to the ground, upside down.

Doof looked at his truck with a dejected expression. "Yeah… I probably should have thought that trap through a little more."

Perry rolled his eyes.

"As I was about to say, I might as well tell you what my evil scheme was. It was really quite simple, unlike most of my plans. The Tag-Flipperinator is basically just a frequency emitter that effects the molecular structure of the exact kind of paper the I.D. tags each entrant received is made of. The frequency would just flip the tags around so no one could see the number, except for the number on my tag, so they would be forced to vote for me! HA HA…yeah." He started to laugh and then remembered that he had already been foiled.

Suddenly, Heinz straightened up. "But that's okay because I still have a revenge plan, for the event that I still somehow lost anyway." He walked over to the truck and pressed a hidden button under the precariously leaning truck bed. A trap door in the middle of the bed slid open and a medium-sized ray gun rose from somewhere inside the truck.

"BEHOLD! The DISPLAY RAMP AWAYINATOR!" Doofenshmirtz shouted. After a dramatic pause, Doof began to explain. "See those ramps over there, Perry the Platypus?"

Perry looked in the direction he was pointing. There were several metal tube frame ramps on either side of the small stage.

"Those ramps are for the winners of the competition," Doof explained. "There's one for each category. The winners will drive their cars up there so everyone can see them. If I don't win at least one category, I'm going to shoot the ramps with my Display Ramp Awayinator, which is just your average mater-transport ray that I specifically named for the target I plan on hitting with it. I'm going to wait until they drive up and then make the ramp disappear from under their cars, causing them to fall ten feet to the ground, effectively destroying all the best cars! HA HA HA!"

* * *

"Carl, stop the car."

"Why, sir?"

"Carl…" the Major said again, annoyance in his tone.

Carl pulled over onto the shoulder and braked the car as gently as possible. No sooner had the car stopped, the rear driver's side door opened and Major Monogram pulled himself out. They were about a mile down the road from the car show.

Monogram held his arms above his head and bent backwards, his spine making cracking noises as he did so. He pulled open the driver's side door.

"Slide over," he commanded Carl. "_I'm_ driving home."

* * *

Steve drove back toward the car show actually obeying the speed limit. Phineas and Isabella had pulled themselves back into normal sitting positions and Ferb was now sitting as far away from the door as possible.

About a mile from the fairgrounds, another road branched off perpendicular to the one they were currently on. It was closed off with a rickety wood fence and a sign nailed to it that warned "BRIDGE OUT."

Two weeks ago, the remnants of a hurricane had passed over the Tri-State area. There hadn't been any dangerous wind, but the rain poured for two days as the weather system burned itself out. The runoff from the Danville Fairgrounds parking lot had made the little creek overflow. Nearly a foot of sediment was eroded from the bottom and the bridge on Orchard Road was washed away. The road was closed but no construction had begun on the new bridge because, as the county said, it wasn't in the budget. But, the road was seldom used and easily bypassed, so no one seemed in a big hurry to rebuild the bridge.

"Whoa!" Steve slammed on the brakes and locked up the tires, roughly stopping the car. He glanced past the fence down the road.

He turned to his passengers with a mischievous grin on his face. "I wanna check this out. Anybody mind?"

Phineas and Isabella shrugged. "Sure, lets go see it," Phineas said.

Steve didn't respond, but drove into the dusty dirt on the side of the intersection and went around the fence. Back on the road, he started accelerating up to breakneck speeds again. The bridge was not yet insight, for it was about two miles down the road. The blacktop ahead curved gently and descended a long gradual grade. The creek and road intersected at the bottom of this hill.

"Uh, Steve, what're you doing?" Isabella asked, a nervousness obvious in her voice.

"I just want to see the wrecked bridge…from fifteen feet directly overhead," he replied calmly.

"Oh my God, you're gonna try and jump it?" she screamed.

"I'm not gonna try. That would be dangerous. _WE_ ARE going to jump it. It'll be fun."

Isabella leaned back into the seat and looked at Phineas.

"He's gonna get us killed!" she whispered.

"Oh, I don't think so," Phineas said. "The creek isn't that wide."

"Do you even hear yourself?! This isn't something you would do if this was your car!"

"True, but this isn't my car," he responded. "And besides, I trust him."

"What do you mean, 'you trust him!' We just met him!"

"I'm good at reading people. I think he's trustworthy."

"How can you say you're good at reading people?! I've been dropping hints that I'm in love with you for the last ten years and you still haven't noticed!"

There was silence. Even the engine quieted down. Steve had taken his foot of the gas and was coasting. Ferb turned around in his seat and stared at them.

"I just said that out loud, didn't I?" Isabella said.

"Yes…yes you did," Phineas said slowly.

There was silence again.

"Uh, not to interrupt," Steve said, "But I could hear every word you just said. If you really don't want to jump, then I won't. I just thought you guys might find it exciting."

In a split second, Isabella decided that if they failed the jump and died, at least it would cover up her slip of the tongue. And at the moment, she could at least change the subject.

"I don't know," she said. "What do you think, Ferb?"

"Well, based on the beefy construction, aerodynamic efficiency and the speed this car is capable of, as well as the obvious skill of the man behind the wheel, I would say the chances of making a fifteen-foot jump are quite good, providing the ramp is the right height and angle, of course."

"Oh," Steve said, suddenly, "I forgot. There probably isn't a good ramp that just happens to be sitting at the edge of the creek."

They reached the down hill curve. They could see the creek as they began to descend.

"Yup, nothing to use as a ramp," Steve observed.

Isabella was both relieved and disappointed. Steve gently began to brake.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Well," Dr. Doofenshmirtz said, "We have some time to kill before they announce the winners. I guess I should try to balance out my truck so it doesn't, you know, flip over."

He turned away from Perry and took a few steps toward the leaning VW. He noticed Perry's hovercraft, upside down on the ground.

Heinz said, "Gee, I'm really sorry about your hovercraft. I really didn't think that trap through at all. Maybe I can fix it for you!"

He bent down and pulled on the far side of the little craft, trying to turn it over.

"Whew, this thing is a lot heavier than it looks."

Finally, after a struggle, Doof managed to turn Perry's hovercraft right side up.

"Well, it's not too bad," the scientist analyzed. "The windshield is shattered and there's some body damage, but I don't think any major mechanical components broke. I'll have this thing cleaned up in a jiffy!"  
The listing truck forgotten, he pulled a tool box out of the cab and set to work removing the broken windshield frame.

Perry suddenly saw an opportunity. His upper arms were restricted by the tire that held him captive, but his forearms were still free. He reached for his watch and pressed a button. The hovercraft's magnet ray was activated and began pulling on the closest magnetic object, which just happened to be the lopsided truck.

The magnet ray wasn't powerful enough to lift the truck, but it had just enough strength to pull the truck over.

The truck started to rock a tiny bit. Then it started to fall over on its side, seemingly in slow-motion.

"There we go, now to bang out the dents." Doofenshmirtz was completely engrossed in fixing the little hovercraft, oblivious to what was occurring just over his shoulder.

He froze and his eyes widened as a shadow suddenly blocked out the setting sun.

Doof glanced up at the falling truck just above him, screamed and ran, half-bent over, out of the truck's path.

The Type II Microbus crashed into the pavement with enough force to rock the ground a bit, crushing Perry's hovercraft and causing the Display Ramp Awayinator to break off its mount and hit the ground, triggering it to fire.

The green beam of light that shot from the inator's focusing emitter somehow missed every car, spectator and miscellaneous debris on the ground and struck one of the empty display ramps on the left side of the stage. The metal frame slowly faded out of existence and disappeared.

Since the ray would be powered by the VW's 12 volt car battery, Dr. Doofenshmirtz built it so that whatever it hit would be transported 2.73 miles away. There was no point in building the inator to transport something to another dimension or the opposite side of the globe if you didn't have enough power to fire it a second time.

And so, the dematerialized display ramp reappeared 2.73 miles away.

* * *

When the slowing Ford Mustang was 200 yards away from the wrecked bridge, a perfect ramp suddenly appeared out of nowhere, perfectly aligned with the road.

"Oh, wait there's a ramp!" Steve exclaimed excitedly.

"Wait, what?!" Isabella started to say, but she was thrown back into her seat as Steve pushed the accelerator to the floor.

"I HOPE WE MAKE IT!" he shouted over the growl of the accelerating engine.

The Mustang only had enough time to accelerate to 94 miles per hour before it hit the ramp, dead center, and broke free from gravity.

Time seemed to slow down.

Steve held the wheel tightly with both hands and yelled "WHOO-HOOOOO!"

Ferb still did not change his facial expression, but he held his arms straight up as if he were on a rollercoaster.

Phineas and Isabella were both taken completely by surprise. They wrapped their arms around each other, shut their eyes, and screamed.

* * *

Doofenshmirtz picked himself up off the ground where he had tripped and fallen and dusted off his lab coat. Meanwhile, Perry pulled the cap off the tire's valve stem with his teeth and bit the valve, squeezing the air out.

"I guess I should have balanced out the truck _before_ I started working on your hovercraft," he stated. He had no idea that Perry had made the truck fall over.

Perry lifted the deflated tire over his head and walked over to Doof's side.

"Sorry about your hovercraft, Perry the Platypus."

Perry flipped his open palm forward, signaling that the doctor shouldn't worry about it. He felt bad that he had almost crushed his nemesis and heavily damaged his beloved microbus. After all, he was sort of friends with Doofenshmirtz.

"But, hey, my inator worked!" Doof said, suddenly brightening up. "And it hit what I intended to hit with it! Just, like, two hours too early."

He walked over where the inator lay on the ground. "I wonder if it still works." He bent down and pressed a button.

The Display Ramp Awayinator exploded. Doof stood as if frozen, covered in black soot, his brown hair standing on end.

"Whoops. Wrong button."

* * *

The Mustang crashed back down to the ground, thankfully on all four wheels instead of nose diving into the pavement. Steve slammed on the brakes and slightly turned the wheel so the car would slide just a bit to the right, more for effect than anything.

Phineas and Isabella both stopped screaming when the car hit the ground. They didn't really have a choice, as the air was forcibly knocked from their lungs by the rough landing.

When the car came to stop, they both slowly opened their eyes. Their heads were side-by-side, with their ears touching. Isabella's soft hair tickled Phineas's face as they slowly pulled apart. For a brief moment, they stared into each other's eyes.

"That was awesome!" Steve yelled, breaking the moment. "I sure hope the shocks held up okay. I'll replace 'em tomorrow, just to be safe."

"That was fun," Isabella said, her voice a bit shaky. They hadn't died in a fiery crash, but now she was in a very awkward position. She didn't really want to say anything to Phineas, but with no where to go, she had no choice but to stay in the car. "But… I think I'm ready to go back to the car show."

"Me too," said Phineas. "I want to see how Candace is doing. She's probably wondering where we are."

"Yeah, lets head back," Steve agreed. "Don't worry, I'll drive like a normal person."

He adjusted his Ford Racing cap and down-shifted the transmission into first gear. Then, he slowly drove off. He briefly fiddled with the buttons on the sound system, and Alan Jackson's voice began to slip through the speakers.

_"Don't rock the jukebox…I wanna hear some Jones…cause my heart ain't ready…for the Rollin' Stones…"_

Isabella couldn't hear the song at all. She trying to think of a way to get home from the car show without having to ride with Phineas. At the same time, though, really wanting to talk to Candace privately.

* * *

When the Black-and-yellow Ford Mustang finally rolled back into the car show, the sun had fully set. Steve backed into his parking space and turned off the ignition. He exited the car and then leaned the seat forward so Isabella, and then Phineas, could climb out. Ferb walked around the car to join the others as Steve closed the door.

"So, Isabella, still think foreign car are better than American automotive masterpieces?" Steve asked, a gentle smile on his face.

It took Isabella a moment to remember where she was and what Steve was talking about. "I…uh…I never said they were better," she said defensively, "I just said there was nothing wrong with foreign cars."

"Oh, okay," Steve said with a grin, as if what Isabella had said was secretly hilarious.

"But, I will say this," Isabella continued, trying to keep her mind off of Phineas. "I don't know anything about cars, nor do I really care about cars. They're just a mode of transportation, after all."

Steve looked hurt.

"This car, though…this car is pretty freakin' awesome."

"Agreed," said Phineas with his usual good natured smile.

"Thanks," Steve said, his smirk returning. "It means a lot. To me, anyway. I'm just happy to have someone to talk to. I don't know anyone here in Danville and I kinda feel like I don't belong, like I'm out of place."

"Well, now you know us," Phineas said. "I think you'll fit in just fine here in Danville."

Steve's smile grew. "Thanks, Phineas."

"Hey, you want to come meet our sister?" Phineas asked. "Then you'll know _four _people."

"And you can see the car that Phineas and Ferb restored," Isabella said.

"Yeah, could you critique our work, since yours is so…professional?" Phineas urged.

"Okay, I'd like to see what you've done," Steve said.

"Alright, let's go!"

As Phineas led the way toward the 1950's cars, Isabella said to Steve, "You can take your sunglasses off. It's dark out, you know."

"Actually, I can't," Steve said. "I have this condition where my eyes are super sensitive to light. I have to keep them on at all times or it feels like I'm being blinded because my pupils let in too much light. I can even take them off to watch TV."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that," Isabella said apologetically.

"That's okay. It's inconvenient at times, but, on the plus side, I _aaallllways_ look cool."

As they returned to Candace, Phineas, Ferb and Isabella wrote down Steve's number on their ballots for "Best Race Car" and "Best Car 70's and 80's."

* * *

The sun had long since sank beneath the horizon and the winners had been announced. As had been expected, Candace's Neblington Nymph won for best non-traditional modification and for Best car: 50's and 60's, but because the Nymph was so far from being original, it had lost for Best Overall Restoration to a Pontiac GTO that nearly was original, having been rebuilt with all factory parts from 1967.

Candace, somewhat surprisingly, had liked Steve almost immediately. Maybe it was because, after critiquing Phineas and Ferb's restoration work on the Nymph, he said, "Overall, a very nice restoration job on a very…strangely…designed car that is almost as beautiful as your sister."

Candace was quite flattered, but quickly explained that she was spoken for. Steve laughed. "The good ones always are," he said.

Steve's 1970 Ford Mustang won for Best Race Car, even though technically, it wasn't a race car. He actually was quite surprised he had received enough votes to win, since the car was gone for an hour and a half in the middle of the show when he took Phineas, Ferb and Isabella for a ride. Turns out, the Mustang only got nineteen votes, but no other car had received _any_ votes in that category.

And for the entire evening since returning from their joyride, Isabella avoided Phineas like the plague.

* * *

Dr. Doofenshmirtz removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.

"Hello? Vanessa? Yeah, Its me," he said into the mouthpiece, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment. "Do you think you could come pick me up from the car show at Danville Fairgrounds?" There was a pause. "Don't ask."

As he continued the conversation (because Vanessa _did_ ask), Doof noticed Perry standing in front of him, looking up expectantly.

"Excuse me a second, Vanessa." He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Why are you looking at me like that, Perry the Platypus?"

Perry gestured with his hand, urging Doofenshmirtz on.

"What?"

Perry gestured again, a look of disbelief on his face that his nemesis didn't know what he was forgetting.

"Oh, that! Of course!" Doof said with a smile on his face. The smile quickly vanished and he shook his fist at the sky.

"CURSE YOU PERRY THE PLATYPUS!"

Perry smiled, tipped the brim of his fedora farewell, and ran off into the night, his crushed hovercraft forgotten. He had alternate transportation in mind.

"Sorry, Vanessa, you were saying?"

As Heinz Doofenshmirtz resumed his phone conversation with his daughter, a small boy passing by with his parents asked "Mommy, why was that man yelling at a beaver?"

* * *

"It was so awesome to meet you guys," Steve told the group of four. The show was over, and Candace and Steve had decided to leave their cars behind the stage until the parking lot cleared out to avoid being part of the log jam trying to leave the fairgrounds. "Its so great that…after all the time I've been here in Danville, I can actually say I know people. I sort of feel a little more at home."

"It was nice to meet you too," Phineas said. "Hopefully, we'll see you again."

"I second that!" Isabella added wholeheartedly.

"Same here," said Candace.

There was silence for a few moments.

"So what are you going to do tomorrow?" Phineas asked Steve.

"Oh, probably just clean and detail this thing," he replied, patting the hood of his Mustang lovingly. "Maybe replace the shocks, you know, if I feel like it. Maybe see if I can find a new restoration project, one to sell for a profit this time. I'm going to re-open the garage as a restoration shop and just restore and sell cars to make money."

"Well, if you have the time, you can come hang out with us in our backyard if you want. We have some great ideas for projects this summer and we can't wait to get started!"

Steve leaned over next to Candace. "What is he talking about?" he whispered.

"Trust me, you just have to see it for yourself," she assured him.

"And we have to introduce you to our other friends, too," Phineas continued. "Especially Buford. He's been getting really interested in cars lately. He wanted to come tonight, but he had a canasta game he couldn't miss."

Steve thought for a minute. "Okay, I'll come hang with you guys. If you don't mind me being there, I mean. I'm not very good at making friends, historically."

"I don't know, I think you did pretty well with us," Isabella said.

"Really? You mean…we're friends?"

"Sure," Phineas said. "You're cool."

Steve smiled broadly, the first real, meaningful joy flooding his nervous system since he lost his parents.

"Thank you, Phineas. Thank you all. It really means a lot."

"Nrgrgrgrgrgr."

Candace, Phineas and Ferb turned and saw Perry emerge from under the Neblington Nymph. As they looked away, Isabella pushed something into Steve's hand.

"Oh, there you are Perry," the siblings chorused. Phineas scooped him up.

"Perry?" Steve questioned. "Is that…?"

"He's our pet platypus," Phineas said. "He disappears every day, but then, no matter where we are, he shows up at the end of the day. He even found us in Africa once, and we left him home, here in the States! He's really friendly," he said moving closer so Steve could pet the monotreme.

As he scratched Perry on the head, Steve asked "How does he find you regardless of where you are?"

Ferb spoke up again. "After years of Perry showing up exactly where we just happen to be, we've decided its best not to question it."

Steve leaned over to Candace again. "This is normal around here?"

"If you hang out with us long enough, you'll see, there's a lot of weird stuff that is just routine to us," she assured him.

Steve took a few steps closer to his car, looking puzzled. He glanced at Isabella and held up his hand, which was closed around a folded piece of paper held within. She motioned for him to look at it, then joined her other friends, who were standing closer to Candace's car. The Flynn-Fetcher siblings were once again focused on Perry, so they didn't see the exchange.

Steve found a blank car show voting card in his hand. On the back, Isabella had written:

_I hate to ask you for a favor when I just met you, but I really need to talk to Candace privately. Could you offer Phineas and Ferb another ride in your car?_

Steve understood perfectly, recalling Isabella's argument with Phineas during their ride a few hours earlier.

He shoved the paper into his pocket and looked up at where Phineas and Ferb were standing.

"Hey guys," he said. "Anybody wanna go for another ride in the Mustang? I could follow Candace to your house and then I would know where to find you tomorrow."

"That's a great idea!" Phineas said excitedly. "Is that okay with you, Candace?"

"Sure," she said with a smile. "Have fun."

"I call shotgun this time!" Phineas yelled excitedly. "Are you coming Isabella? She lives right across the street from us," he added, to Steve.

"Uh…actually, I think my stomach has had about as much of Steve's driving as I can handle for one day," she said, thinking quickly. "I'll just ride with Candace."

"Okay," Phineas said. "How about you, Perry? You up for it?"

"Um, I have nothing against platypuses…platypi?…, but I'd rather not risk him throwing up or…excreting any other fluids in my car."

"Oh, you don't have to worry," Phineas said, defending his pet. "Perry's very well behaved. But if it makes you feel better, he can ride with Candace."

"Thank you," Steve said.

Phineas handed Perry to Isabella. "Looks like the traffic is clearing out," he announced.

"Great!" Steve said. "I'm itching to tear it up again!"

"Be careful," Candace warned. "I'm holding you responsible if anything happens to my brothers!"

"Fear not! I will deliver them home safely!"

Ferb slid into the back seat and, after returning the seat to its upright position and climbing in, Steve discreetly winked at Isabella through the open window. Phineas had already buckled into the passenger seat, a look of excited anticipation on his face.

Candace climbed into her own driver's seat and Isabella rode shotgun, being the only passenger, holding Perry on her lap. Candace started the engine and drove out of the parking lot with Steve a few yards behind, who doing a slow burnout all the way to the exit.

Finally homeward bound after a long day, Candace began talking to Isabella, "I'd think after years of various amusement park rides in our backyard, you wouldn't get motion sickness from a little…overzealous driving, I guess you'd call it."

"Steve's driving made me very nervous, but it was a pretty fun. You should ask him for a ride sometime," Isabella answered. "But that's not why I didn't want to ride with Phineas…and Ferb."

Candace's expression became worried. "Uh-oh. What happened?"

Isabella took a deep breath and closed her eyes tight before practically shouting, "I accidentally told Phineas I love him!"

Perry, who had been dosing off on Isabella's lap, shot awake. Candace nearly missed the turn to head home, completely forgetting to use her blinker and causing Steve to almost rear-end the Nymph. The girls could hear a squeal of tires that abruptly ended as the Mustang's rear tires slid off the road onto the dirt on the shoulder as Steve made an evasive drift behind them.

Candace regained control of the car, and her composure, before saying, "You'd better start at the beginning."


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

Steve leaned back on the passenger door of his Mustang, which was parked by the curb in front of the Flynn-Fletcher house on Maple Drive. He had spent every day for the past two weeks with Phineas, Ferb and their friends, and had gotten along well with everyone. He had marveled at their magnificent feats of structural and mechanical engineering and had very quickly become accustomed to the same strange everyday occurrences. This particular day had come to a close, and he was chatting with Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, Buford, Baljeet, and Candace as the sun was setting over the Danville skyline.

"Well everybody," Steve said, "I think its time for me to head home. Thanks for all the fun these past two weeks, but I really have to get back to work. I have to support myself now, after all. I just found a beat up '71 Buick Riviera I'm going to restore to sell. I am quite excited about it, actually."

Buford whistled appreciatively. "That's a pretty cool car. Need any help?"

"Actually, I have thought it would be nice to have a helper. Sometimes, two hands aren't enough and its tough to do certain things alone. Especially when you have to take parts off the engine."

"Honestly, I can't think of anyone better to help you," Phineas said.

Everyone looked at him questioningly.

"Uh, not you?" Candace asked. "Or Ferb?"

"Hey!" Buford snapped.

"Well, Ferb and I already offered to build Steve some machines to make the whole restoration process faster and easier, but…" He pointed his triangular head in Steve's direction, looking for him to finish the sentence.

"…It would take all the fun out of the restoration process," he said. "Besides, who wants to buy a classic car restored by heartless, computer controlled machines? I have found that people are much more appreciative of a good craftsman."

"Which once again brings up the question," Candace continued, "Why is Buford - _Buford - _the best choice for a helper?"

"Becau-" Phineas started.

Buford cut him off. "Because, last year I took the automotive repair class in school and Mr. Phoenix said I was the best student he ever had!"

"Which is the only time in the history of the universe those words have been used to describe Buford in school," Baljeet quipped. The smile on his face quickly vanished when Buford glared in his direction and clenched his fist. Baljeet side-stepped around Isabella, trying to use her as a human shield.

"And I've been really interested in cars since high school started," Buford continued. "I've been memorizing all kinds of facts about cars. And not just trivia, like that the original Ford Mustang was just a Ford Falcon with a different body, but mechanical stuff too."

"Yeah?" said Steve, interested in Buford's knowledge.

"Yeah! You ever see the movie _My Cousin Vinny_?"

"I have," Steve replied. "It's one of my favorite movies, behind pretty much anything with Harrison Ford and _The Great Escape_."

"Well, when I saw it for the first time last year, I figured out how to prove Bill and Stan were innocent before the movie explained it!"

Knowing how the court case had been won by proof that the defendant's car could not have been used in the convenience store robbery in the movie, Steve was impressed.

"And he's not just pretending to have figured it out now that he knows how it ends," Baljeet spoke up over Isabella's shoulder. "I watched it with him. I actually suggested we watch it, and when he said he figured it out, I paused the movie and asked him to explain it. He did. And I know he wasn't lying when I asked if he had seen the movie before."

"Yeah, how?" Steve asked.

"He's my best friend. I just know."

Steve thought for a minute. "Okay. And I know you're relatively good with tools, seeing as you helped build all of these crazy contraptions in the backyard." He paused again. "Buford, would you like a job?

"Boy, would I!" Buford yelled excitedly.

"Well, what do you say we go take a look at our first joint project car?" Steve said, opening the passenger door to the Mustang.

"Alright!" Buford hurried over to climb in.

"Can I come, too?" Baljeet asked.

"Sure," Steve said, pushing his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose and adjusting his equally ever-present Ford Racing hat.

A few moments later, the black-and-yellow Ford peeled away from the curb, its occupants waving and yelling goodbye through the open windows. Steve's shop was only about five minutes away. (Steve could make it there in under two providing there wasn't any traffic.)

Phineas, Ferb, Candace and Isabella watched the car speed away toward the setting sun. Isabella was deep in thought. She had only spoken to Phineas when she absolutely had to for fourteen days, waiting for Phineas to say something about her slip of the tongue two weeks ago in the back seat of Steve's Mustang. And at this point, she couldn't take it anymore.

"Ferb, Candace, do you think you could leave me and Phineas alone for a minute?"

Candace, who knew exactly why Isabella was asking this, put a hand on Ferb's shoulder and gently steered him toward the house.

"What's up Isabella?" Phineas asked, a smile still plastered on his face.

Isabella paused. _I should have thought through what I wanted to say before I was alone with him,_ she thought. _Stupid brain._

She took a deep breath. She could hear Ferb, almost out of ear shot, saying "Oh, there you are Perry."

"Phineas, do you remember what happened the day we met Steve?"

"Of course. It was the first day of summer. Ferb and I built a device that would insert every word of _The Illiad _into our memories and then another to make us move super fast so we could write our entire summer book report that day. After that, we made that cool floating sign for Candace, and then we went to the car show and met Steve, heard his life story, went for an epic ride in his Mustang, jumped the creek, Candace won two awards, and then Steve gave me and Ferb an awesome ride home."

Isabella normally would have been annoyed that Phineas had just recalled everything that had happened that day except for the secret she had let slip, but it gave her a chance to think about what she wanted to say to him.

And incidentally, she was livid that he had just relayed everything but her slip of the tongue.

"That isn't what I meant Phineas," she started, an annoyed tone masking her voice. "I was talking about-"

The nearly perpetual smile disappeared in an instant from Phineas's face.

"I know what you're talking about," he said quietly, cutting her off.

Isabella was shocked. "Then why did you-"

"Why did I pretend _not_ to know what you meant? Because…"He thought carefully about his next words, but they still wouldn't come out of his mouth right. "Because…because I…just…don't…know."

"You just said you did know."

"No," Phineas defended. "I mean I don't know…I don't know how I feel. I've been trying not to think about it. I've been hoping that maybe you'd forget that you let it slip out, and that things could just go back to the way they were before."

Tears were forming in the corners of Isabella's pretty eyes. She turned away from Phineas.

"Please, don't cry Isabella," Phineas pleaded, he voice cracking as if he were holding back tears, too. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you. You're my best friend, and I love you, but just not quite the same way."

Isabella did not look at him.

"I don't know how I feel. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. The more I think about it, the more I feel stupid for not realizing it without you telling me…the more I feel bad for not talking to you about it sooner…the more I feel like I _should…_" He swallowed."…Love you back. But…I'm just not sure."

Tears were streaming down Isabella's cheeks.

"Please stop crying, Isabella," Phineas pleaded quietly, tears finally braking free and running down his own geometric face. He tried to pull Isabella into a hug, but she gently pushed him away and began slowly crossing the street to her house, her eyes closed and head hung low. Had there been any cars coming down the street, she wouldn't have seen them, but thankfully, there weren't any.

"Goodbye, Phineas," she whispered.

"Goodbye, Isabella," Phineas returned quietly.

He ignored the tears dripping off the bottom of his jaw and watched Isabella cross Maple Drive. In the distance, Phineas could just make out the sound of a 900 horsepower Ford Racing Engine echoing across the suburbs, the engine of a car that had been a catalyst for the events of the last five minutes.

The silhouette of Isabella Garcia-Shapiro disappeared from Phineas Flynn's vision as the last remaining rays of sunlight disappeared from the sky and the world became dark.

_**To Be Continued in "El Camino de calle traviesa"…**_

_**Which has been posted.**_


End file.
